


A New Verse, Not Copied from the First

by Drag0nst0rm



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Gen, I was going to write angst about Sirion, Twins, Years of the Trees, but i wrote this instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23367412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: Amrod couldn't care less about being mistaken for his brother.He's starting to worry Amras might not feel the same.
Relationships: Amras & Amrod (Tolkien)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 104
Collections: Feanorian Week 2020





	A New Verse, Not Copied from the First

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the Silmarillion.
> 
> Note: I am aware that since this takes place during their childhood, they should be using the Quenya version of their names. However, I find the Sindarin forms easier, so since I’m running later than I'd hoped, I decided to just use the Sindarin names for everybody in this fic.

There are precisely three people who can tell them apart without taking an overlong moment to think on it - aside from themselves, of course.

Their parents make up the first two, and that hardly counts, Amrod thinks, though Amras thinks their mother at least deserves credit for always knowing which one had snuck into their parents’ room in the middle of the night without even opening her eyes.

Amrod thinks that’s mostly luck, especially since Amras is the one who does it four nights out of five because he keeps having nightmares about Maglor’s monster stories like a baby, but that always leads to a fight, so he tries not to bring it up anymore. Fighting is better when it’s both of them against the world - or at least their brothers - not the two of them against each other.

The third person is Curufin, and Amrod thinks it might be because everyone says Curufin is pretty much just Atar but smaller. Curufin always puffs out his chest when they say that.

Which makes what Amras says late one night when the light is soft and silver and they’re both staring up at the ceiling trying to fall asleep all the more puzzling.

“Do you think it ever bothers him?”

Amrod, who has been contemplating sneaking down to the kitchen to steal something from the cupboard, has no idea what he was talking about. “Who?”

Amras rolls over in his bed to look at him better. “Curufin. Do you think it bothers him what people say about him and Atar?”

“No,” Amrod says immediately, not needing to think about it. “Why would it?”

Amras bites his lip. “Well, he’s not just a smaller Atar. He’s his own person.”

Amrod, who shares a room, a name, and nearly every moment of his life with Amras, has never been particularly concerned with being seen as his own person. He is Amrod, individually, and Ambarussa, collectively, and Amras whenever someone isn’t paying enough attention, and it doesn’t matter to him in the least.

The tight knot in his stomach is starting to make him think it might matter to Amras though. 

“Does it bother you?” he asks, and he’s careful to keep his eyes fixed firmly one the ceiling. “When people do it with us? When they think you’re just - “ He struggles to think of a difference between themselves. “Me, but younger?”

Amras is younger by approximately ten minutes, and normally just bringing it up is enough to merit a punch to the arm. The fact that they are in beds that are five feet away from each other isn’t normally enough to stop him.

This time, he just lays so quietly in bed that Amrod eventually has to give in and turn to look at him.

Amras’s face is scrunched up in thought. “No,” he says slowly, like he’s trying the word out. “Or - maybe yes. I don’t know. It’s never been any other way. I don’t know what it feels like.”

This is true, Amrod supposes. But the knot in his stomach is twisting even tighter. 

What if Amras’s idea of trying out things being different is to get separate rooms? Or to stop spending time together? Or to -

“I think we should dye our hair.”

Amrod blinks. “What?”

Amras sits up in his bed, overcome with excitement. “They have dyes in the market,” he reminds Amrod. “And Atar’s taking us tomorrow, and he promised to get us something. We should get the dye. You could make your hair - Green. Or blue. Whatever you wanted. And I could do mine a different color, and we could see what we thought.”

Amrod considers this. 

It is not, he decides, as bad as it could be. In fact, it’s not a bad idea at all.

“I want green,” he decides, because Celegorm’s been teaching them about how to blend in on hunts, and green hair is a logical continuation of that.

“Then I’ll take blue,” Amras agrees, and it’s settled, just like that.

Assuming, of course, that they can talk their parents into it.

But that’s a problem for the morning, and for now, with the knot finally vanishing from his stomach, Amrod wants nothing more than to finally go to sleep.


End file.
